Muthh
by The Readers Muse
Summary: She didn't realize Podrick had fallen asleep standing up until his shoulder nudged hers.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Game of Thrones." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** Missing scene after the end of 8x03. Brienne, Jaime and Podrick take stock and Brienne and Jaime finally stop taking their stupid pills and get buzay.

**Warnings:**missing scene, hurt/comfort, drama, angst, family, romance, first kiss, resolved romantic tension, semi-public sex.

**Muthh**

She didn't realize Podrick had fallen asleep standing up until his shoulder nudged hers. Slowing his gradual, leaning fall long enough for her to save him from face-planting into her breastplate.

It was hours after the battle had been won. Hours of sifting through the rubble and pulling out survivors. Tending to the wounded and providing those who needed it a merciful end. Staining the ground with a thickening cover of red that threatened to paint the stones of Winterfell anew.

"Podrick-" she started, before trailing off. Catching Ser Jaime's eye in the torchlight as he helped a wounded bannerman onto a stretcher. Realizing quite suddenly there wasn't anything to say. Podrick was mostly asleep and she was at loath to wake him. Lashes fluttering as he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like: _"m'lady?" _As if she'd been the one to fall asleep on him!

She kept him upright as the crowds around slowly thinned. Quietly stunned when she looked down and realized all the lines that'd once been soft on the boy's face, were hard and angling under the soot and blood.

He was more man than boy.

Perhaps he'd been that way for a long time.

She couldn't name the hour it had changed.

For reasons beyond her, it thickened her throat.

And, much as he always did, Ser Jaime saved her from her thoughts. Suddenly in front of her and grinning as he looped his arm under Pod's shoulder and helped her hike him up.

"Come on, lets get him to bed."

* * *

The corridors were narrow as they half-carried the lad toward her room. Not bothering to question where to place him as they set him down on the only bed in the room. The one she'd left unmade that morning.

"I did the same thing after my first battle," Jaime murmured softly, untying the boy's scabbard and sword as she hesitated, then did the same to his boots. Easing them off and onto the floor as Podrick's breathing thickened into true sleep. "He fought well."

"He did," she agreed. Looking down at the filth that coated his face. Fighting the urge to find a basin and cloth before shaking the thought away again.

"He'll be up in a few hours with a prick that won't let him rest until he's had his fill of someone," Jaime remarked with a wry grin. As filthy as her as the red in his hair threatened to turn the blond strands dark. "It gets in the blood. From what I've heard, he'll have no problem finding someone to warm his bed. He was quite the talk of the Capital for a while, or so I heard."

She was too tired to blush.

Instead, she was just exhausted enough to be completely unlike herself. Eying him with a searching look that'd been on her face more than once over the last few days. Wondering, with a fractured, desperate sort of hope, if he felt the same for her.

"And you, Ser?" she asked after a lengthy pause. Suddenly sure that this time would be different as the humor in his eyes was replaced with something else. Something that made his throat bob exaggeratedly. Blue eyes flickering up to meet hers. Holding fast, just like how they'd fought together only hours before.

Perhaps they could take care of each other.

Perhaps it could mean more than that.

Because she felt it too.

The dull, pressing need throbbing from her center like a thirst that couldn't be quenched.

And Jaime- _Ser Jaime,_ was here and already felt like it could be for her.

The stones at their feet were filthy with blood and dust. Muffling the sounds of the people outside as they stood in the middle of the room. Listening to the soft sound of Podrick breathing. Feeling all the words they weren't saying. _Owning them_. And despite the tension, it just made the moment feel soft. Possible. _Real._

She had him wordless now.

She couldn't decide if she liked the look.

But she _did_ like the way his unsteady exhale seemed to take something out of him.

As if he had just as much to lose as she did.

_And wasn't that a thought?_

When he finally nodded, dumb and plain and so painfully _hers_, it gave her power in a moment she never thought a woman could have. Seeing his wants on his face the same way she knew hers must have been showing. Standing for so much more than blood-lust and relief. This was something stronger than blood. Something starving for a happy ending.

"Then, let's go to your room," she told him unsteadily, taking a step into the unknown. Too weary and wanton not to be bold.

She almost made it to the door when he seized her up and staggered them into the door. Taking her lips in an uneven kiss as his good hand buried itself in her hair. Letting go of a needy moan as his back hit the door with a heavy sound. Murmuring wordless sounds into the soft of her lips as she returned the kiss just as desperately.

"Brienne, I-"

Heat flushed down her neck when he shook his head and bit at her lower lip. Drawing an answering sound as her hand left the pommel of her sword and clenched in the pitted hide of his leathers. Sparing a slightly hysterical thought to the bed at her back as her squire slept on, unaware. Especially when Jaime fumbled with her belt and the door whinged under their weight. Deciding if there truly were Gods, they would make the boy a heavy sleeper.

If only for tonight.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. This story now complete.

**Reference:**

Muthh - a word believed to be used straight from the heart without the use of your mind to convey how special someone is to you. Can be viewed in a family context or a romantic context.


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